A Christmas Miracle for Daisy (Taming of the Sheenans Book 5) (24 page)

Whitney met Cormac
at Grey’s. “Where’s Daisy?” she asked, settling into one of the generous wooden booths and dumping her coat next to her.

“Troy and Taylor are taking TJ and Daisy out for dinner.” His mouth quirked. “That should be a lively meal. Would love to be a fly on the wall for that one. So what are you drinking? Beer, wine, cocktail?”

“Beer’s good. And can we get something to eat? I’m starving.”

He signaled to the waitress and ordered a couple of the Montana lagers on draft and an extra-large order of wings.

“So what’s the exciting news?” Whitney asked as they waited for their pints. “You’ve got me very curious.”

“Late October I was approached by Hartag.” He paused, letting his words hang there between them. Hartag was the parent company for HLL Broadband and Hartag Media Corp. Hartag Media owned a handful of radio stations and three cable networks, two of which interested Cormac. “They’re interested in a partnership, and if you recall, you were interested in them several years ago, so I’ve been taking meetings with them and we’ve been throwing around some numbers.”

“You guys at all in the same ballpark?”

“Back in early November I didn’t think so, but Hartag Sr. has more or less retired and Hartag Jr. has been running things. Only now there’s a health issue for Jr. and they’re looking to get out altogether.”

“They want to sell.”

He nodded. “This is a big step, though. It takes us from broadband and cable into programming. We become content creators, not just providers.”

“You’d extend your reach significantly, and it dovetails nicely with your lifestyle brand.”

She was silent a moment thinking about the opportunity. It was certainly exciting. But programming was different from publishing. The costs in programming can be enormous. “The costs could also eat you alive,” she added after a moment.

“I’d have to be on top of it.” He looked up as the waitress arrived with their beer and thanked her before adding, “Obviously that is going to be harder from Marietta.”

“Too bad you’re still not in Southern California.”

“I want Hartag, but not enough to drag Daisy back. I’d rather lose out on the opportunity than have her lose out on growing up here.”

She picked up her beer, studied the rich gold color, taking time to choose her words. “Why is it so important to you that she grows up here?”

“People here don’t try to fit in. There isn’t a right way of doing things and women aren’t forced to conform to some artificial standard of beauty. I don’t want her raised in Hollywood, and I don’t want her to think that a woman needs skinny legs, fake lips, big tits, and a Botox forehead to be attractive.”

“There is a rugged, individualistic quality to Montanans,” she agreed.

“And that’s what I want for her. I want her to be her own person, not a Barbie doll.”

“But you don’t mind if she wants to be a Disney princess?”

“Disney princesses can be tough. Have you ever seen Mulan?”

The appetizer platter arrived and they shifted to other topics as they ate, but Whitney couldn’t stop thinking about Hartag Media.

Hartag was a great little company that had done wonderful things. It would be an exciting area of growth of Sheenan Media. But Cormac was right, he’d need someone there who could be hands on.

It would definitely be an intriguing job. A whole new direction. The creative challenge excited her.

But he hadn’t offered her the job, and she’d made it clear she wanted out from Sheenan Inc.

Would she want to live in Los Angeles? Could she be happy there?

And if she did go, would Cormac allow her to continue seeing Daisy on a regular basis?

Which reminded her, it was time for another Daisy date. “Do you guys have plans this weekend? I’d love to see Daisy Saturday or Sunday. The Graff is doing holiday brunches with Santa—”

“I think we’ve seen plenty of Santa—”

“And I thought after brunch we could go sledding or skating or something fun,” she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted, and yet she was smiling at him, teasing him because she was perfectly aware of what a Grinch he was being about Christmas this year. “And you’re invited, Cormac, if you can behave, otherwise, we’ll make it just a girls’ day.”

“It’d be fun to do something with you two girls, so yes to skating, but can we skip the festive brunch?”

Whitney shook her head, not certain why, but she enjoyed his torment. “Nope. It’s all or nothing.”

He groaned into his beer. “I’ll make the brunch reservations.”

‡

C
ormac felt trapped
in a special kind of Hell.

Marietta had become Christmas Town and living in the Graff, he was smack dab in the middle of it.

He was fine with the parade. He’d grown up with the Marietta Stroll. But did the Graff have to become a holiday hotel?

He wasn’t a naturally festive guy. He tended to tolerate holidays, but living in the Graff while it featured Santa in the lobby in a huge gold chair was honestly pushing his buttons. And then to add Victorian carolers in another corner warbling on about good cheer. It was enough to put him off Christmas forever.

Worse, his impressionable daughter was living in the same hotel where Santa Claus worked, and had taken to visiting old Kris Krinkles at least once a day, if not more, bringing him treats and sweets, making him drawings to share with Mrs. Claus and all the little elves back at the North Pole.

Every time Cormac saw her hunched over the table, making another picture for Kris, Cormac’s hackles rose.

Why did Santa have to work in the same hotel where Cormac and Daisy were living? Why did Santa have to be so much like Santa? If his beard was fake and falling off…if you could see glue patches on his temple and jaw…if he had a pillow instead of a big round belly…if his boots didn’t jingle when he walked…

And that Santa costume.

It wasn’t made from the cheap stuff. The outfit was sewn from thick heavy velvet, soft white trim, and a real leather belt with a big sturdy gold buckle.

Whitney had assured Cormac that Kris was a nice old man, that she talked to Kris every day at the B&B and he was unfailingly kind and cheerful, but Cormac didn’t trust any man who was always kind and cheerful. Cormac made Whitney and the babysitter, Bella, promise that Daisy would never ever be left alone with Kris, and they’d both agreed. Cormac didn’t feel bad for extracting that promise, either. Far better to be safe than sorry.

Now Cormac stood off to the side of the lobby this Saturday morning, watching as Daisy skipped over to Santa’s empty chair to place a love note on the red cushion.

Damn Santa.

Damn hotel—

“Good morning, Cormac.”

Cormac turned swiftly to discover none other than Kris Krinkles at his side. “Starting early, are you, Kris?” he asked tersely.

Kris smiled cheerfully. “Christmas will be here before you know it.”

“Looking forward to it.”
Because then you’ll be gone
, he silently added.

“Daisy’s very excited about Christmas this year.”

Cormac fought to keep his temper in check. “You need to stop encouraging her. You can’t promise her things that you can’t deliver.”

“I don’t think I’m promising anything. I just listen to her. Sometimes children just need adults to listen.”

“I listen.”

“That’s good.” Kris clapped Cormac on the shoulder. “It was nice seeing you, Cormac. And no pressure, but don’t forget about the naughty and nice list—”

“I’m not amused.”

“Maybe you’ll like this joke. What do you call Santa’s helpers?” Kris waited, bushy white eyebrows lifted. “
Subordinate clauses
. Get it—”

“Got it. And it’s not funny.”

“Whitney thought it was funny.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did. She told me the joke this morning at Bramble House.” He lifted a gloved hand. “But I won’t tell her you didn’t like it. She’s such a nice young lady. Tries so hard to do the right thing. There’s no reason to hurt her feelings.”

Cormac wanted to deck him. One well-placed punch right on the kisser.

“Good morning, Santa!” Daisy cried, giving Santa a high five followed by a fierce bear hug. “I put a card on your chair. I hope you’ll like it.”

“I save every one.”

“Good. And this one has a message for Blitzen. I do hope his stomach feels better. I hate stomach aches.”

“Say goodbye to Santa,” Cormac said, taking Daisy’s hand and walking her across the lobby to the hotel’s Grill restaurant. “Blitzen has a stomach ache?” he asked, struggling to check his exasperation as they approached the entrance.

“Yes. He ate too much green hay.”

“Who told you this?”

“Santa, of course.”

“Daisy, you know you can’t believe everything he says. He’s telling you stories—” he broke off, and bit down hard, molars grinding tight to keep from saying more.

“About the North Pole?”

“There’s no North Pole. There’s no—” he broke off again, hearing himself. Was he really going to do this? Was he going to crush her the way he’d been crushed? His dad had been ruthless. His mom had been broken. Was he going to now break Daisy? Wasn’t she allowed to be innocent?

“What, Daddy?” Daisy whispered, looking up at him wide-eyed.

Cormac hated himself just then. He was in trouble here. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. “Hang on, sweetheart,” he said roughly. “I need to make a call.”

Cormac dropped her hand and turned around, trapped, reaching for his phone. He didn’t really need to phone anyone, he just needed a second to pull himself together.

He couldn’t do this to her.

He couldn’t hurt her.

He had to have more patience and self-control.

“Good morning, Cormac. Good morning, Daisy!” Whitney swooped in then, giving Daisy a big hug and flashing a smile at Cormac.

Her smile slipped as she read his mood. “Everything okay?”

Cormac nodded once. Daisy took Whitney’s hand and held it tightly.

“They should have our table ready,” Whitney said, lifting Daisy’s hand and giving it a kiss. “And I made the reservation in your name. Daisy Sheenan. What do you think of that?”

Whitney knew something was wrong when she’d spotted Cormac and Daisy. Daisy was near tears and Cormac just looked angry.

She waited until they were all seated and Daisy was too busy coloring the Christmas placemat to say anything to Cormac. “I walked up on something. What happened?”

“You’d be disgusted and disappointed in me, and I’m already disgusted and disappointed in myself, so let’s not go there.”

“Okay.” But her gaze swept him from head to toe and she didn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes or the lines etched at his mouth. “You look like hell,” she said under her breath.

“Not getting enough sleep,” he said. “Living off cigarettes and coffee.”

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

“I don’t. I was trying to be funny.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Maybe you should be.” He dropped his voice, expression pained. “I almost told my daughter there was no S-A-N-T-A Claus.”

Whitney leaned across the table. “
What
?”

“Kris was really getting to me. And Blizen has a stomach ache and I don’t give a rat’s ass about the naughty or nice list—”

“Daddy!” Daisy exclaimed, looking up from the stocking she’d been scribbling pink. “That’s a bad word, and if you say bad words you won’t get anything from Santa Claus.”

“Yes, I know,” he said grimly. “I’m not expecting much this year.”

“That’s wise,” Whitney answered, lips curving, amused despite all. “I like how you manage your expectations.”

Daisy lifted her head again. “Daddy said there was no North Pole. But I know there is ’cause that’s where Santa and all the reindeer live.” She looked at Whitney. “And Blizen does have a stomach ache and it’s because he did eat too much green hay and I know a lot more things that Santa told me but I will never tell Daddy again because he doesn’t believe, and if you don’t believe then the magic and miracles can’t happen.”

Whitney leaned over and kissed the top of Daisy’s head. “That’s right.” Whitney then looked at Cormac and smiled. “So remember that, Sheenan. If you want the magic and miracles, you better believe.”

His eyes locked with hers. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

She nodded and grinned. “I find it rather delightful.”

“I’m telling Santa.”

“Oh, I imagine he already knows.” She held up her hand and showed him two crossed fingers. “Kris and I are like this.”

*